Thorax stepped out of his new room, his best smile on his face. However, no sooner had he stepped through the door did his hoof slip on something soft, and he found himself getting close and personal with the hard wooden flooring, face first and with a loud thud. He groaned as he lifted his head, a slight daze enveloping his mind. There were sounds of muffled childish giggles close by. Shaking his head as he stood back up on to all fours, Thorax turned to his side and was met with the

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As of today, I'm twenty-six years old, but this isn't a blog about that. That'd be boring.

So here's a free comic about Trixie, and Starlight Glimmer. Mostly Trixie. Happy birthday to me.

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Something that might surprise most of you is that, when I try to humblebrag, I barely talk about the obscene size of my penis. There is nothing humble about it. It’s just generally a great thing.

No, what I always talk about is the fact that—and this is true, fucking warped as it sounds—even though I am the dumbest motherfucker on this website? I sometimes need to put, like, real effort into convincing my readers that my prose is shit.

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So here's a thing.

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If you’re like me, you’ve accepted the fact that writing is a constant exercise of forgetting and then re-learning the single most basic goddamn rules every time. Technical stuff is easy—hey, commas go here, semicolons go there, slap in the butt and go get ‘em, tiger—but conceptual stuff?

Pff, fuck me. 

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Right now, it is a little late for me to be making proper puns, so that is the best I have to offer. I've been typing mostly emails and other purely academic things lately. Though, I wouldn't be blogging without a few things to discuss. I hope that y'all will read on since I do want to do my best to get back in the saddle for... well, pretty much everything in my life. The first thing to get out of the way: I got my laptop back! The new battery is in, and it ended up costing far less than I

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RIP My old laptop. My new one isn't completely set up yet and ready for writing, so I've got the old one up one last time. I typed over a million words on this thing, amassed hundreds of memes, bookmarked too many goddamn things, and fumed at poorly written Netflix drivel on this idiot hunk of plastic. I covered it with far too many stickers, let my cats near it far too many times, and dropped it once or twice. The keyboard is pretty funky too, if I do say so myself because everyone who has

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Considering how much progress I've been making writing the latest one, I wouldn't say it's out of the question. Probably! There's going to be a considerable amount to edit (and I fucking hate editing) and I also won't have much of a chapter buffer after this one goes out... but I dunno. Words are flowing, and the story's been wrangled pretty alright now.

I'd say it is probably gonna happen. Here's to hoping for less time between chapters. 🤞

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GUESS HOW OLD THE TEL ONESHOT IS TODAY

I wasn't originally going to write a blogpost because it's been a bad week, but then LILFUNKMAN spent an entire night doing that GIF so now I had to.

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So back in 1925, they weren't called 'blogs'. They were called 'essays'.

I’ve been reading essays lately.

I know my audience, believe it or not—I am aware that some of you sneak into my room in the wee hours of night to caress my sleeping angel face and read my diary. For the sake of everybody else in the house, though, I want to explain something: there are two Latin American authors I really, really like.

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